


Brett's Week

by raving_liberal



Series: Dead in Ohio [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Marijuana, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brett doesn’t notice anything strange happening on Sunday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brett's Week

**Author's Note:**

  * For [patchfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/gifts).



Brett doesn’t notice anything strange happening on Sunday. He doesn’t watch the news, since he doesn’t get any live tv, doesn’t even have any kind of cable or phone or internet coming directly into the house, since everybody knows that’s how Big Brother finds you, plus he’s been stealing wifi from the next door neighbors for two years. He and his older brother spend the better part of the afternoon grazing in the grass and watching a Jackie Chan marathon on DVD. They mix up a batch of ramen with ground beef and barbecue sauce, and that’s pretty much the whole day.

Brett doesn’t notice anything strange on Monday, either. He and his brother eat the rest of the ramen batch cold, they eat the rest of the batch of magic brownies from Saturday, then his brother leaves for work at two. Brett’s brother doesn’t come back at ten like he usually does, but he could be shacking up with the waitress with the pink highlights, so it’s not totally out of the ordinary. Brett eats a bowl of ice cream for dinner and passes out in front of _Bride of Chucky_. 

Tuesday, now that one starts off a little weird, when Brett gets up to take a whiz and looks out the bathroom window to see a zombie eating the neighbor’s cat. Brett flushes, closes the curtains, and eats a tube of cookie dough while he watches some scratchy VHS of German BDSM porn. The power goes out right as Oskar is about to give it to Ursula, which is about the worst possible timing in terms of interrupting German porn. Brett finishes jerking off without the benefit of Ursula’s dubbed orgasm, smokes a bowl, and falls asleep on the couch again.

On Wednesday, the zombie in the neighbor’s yard has been joined by four more, several of whom Brett thinks look vaguely familiar. The movement of the bathroom curtain must draw their attention, because they start clawing at the chain-link fence separating the yards, finally becoming distracted by a pair of mourning doves landing in the bird bath. Brett tries calling his brother, but he can’t get a signal. When he peeks out the bathroom window, the zombies are gone and so are the mourning doves, though a few bloody feathers remain behind to blow lazily across the grass. 

Brett wakes up on Thursday and smokes the last of the pot. It takes a long, long time, because he still had a lot of pot. He eats what’s left of the potato chips and the Chips Ahoy and a can of pickled beets and six bags of Skittles and chases them with an entire bottle of Arbor Mist. Friday happens in here somewhere. Brett barfs a rainbow and keeps smoking.

Saturday. Brett wakes up in his stale living room, surrounded by empty snack bags and at least one puddle of yarked-up Skittles and Arbor Mist. The sofa has several new scorch marks. The room smells like the Lima City Jail and despair. He’s out of food, out of pot, and he keep thinking he hears cars on the street, but he’s afraid to move the curtain again and draw any attention. Brett lies on the sofa, staring at the smoke-stained ceiling, and realizes he hasn’t seen his parents in a week, hasn’t heard from his brother since Monday. He hasn’t seen anything to indicate there’s anybody still out there who isn’t a zombie.

Maybe he can look just one more time. He moves to the front window and parts the curtains just enough to look out. Brett hears a scratching sound at the back door just as he sees the big black SUV pulling out of the driveway across the street, followed by a battered-looking blue truck. He’s still at the window when a familiar hand—well, familiar except for the broken nails and the crusted blood—lands on his shoulder. Brett turns and smiles; his brother finally made it home after all.


End file.
